November is a dangerous month, perhaps only matched by April for sheer schizophrenic insanity. The whole damn family has their quirks, but, with the exception of Crazy Cousin November and her two-faced niece, April, they're generally pretty reliable. The triplets, December, January and February are horrible, granted, but you know where you stand with them; they refuse to be ignored, have only the coldest and most bitter things to say and can't leave soon enough. The same thing goes for July and August, who play their heavy metal far too loud, can't sing on key and spread their overweight lethargy as if it was the common cold. May and June are bright and gay, the drag queens of the calendar year, while September and October are the curmudgeons, the beautiful but creepy spinster old maids perched in attic windows turning a wrinkled cheek away from the world they left behind. March is a moody teenager, flooded with hormones and not quite sure what she wants to be: one minute putting on a pretty, plaid skirt and some kick-ass red lipstick, the next dying her hair black and crying while listening to Depeche Mode. Only April and November, those twin, moody bitches refuse to be tagged and labeled. The are fickle, they tease, they scream and shout and then suddenly they open their arms, smother your face with sticky smelling kisses and pledge their undying devotion. They are cruel and treacherous and I can't tell if they just need a good spanking or a pharmacologist. Were I to throw a party, April and November are the two months I'd avoid inviting, urging the whole family to keep it secret, especially their gossipy sister March and bitter Aunt October, who love nothing more than to fan their fires.
It was only a few weeks ago the tree near the library was dressed up in all her finery. This morning we discovered her naked and alone, shivering where she stood. As much as Duncan and I are enjoying these warm days, I can't help but feel as though we're waiting for the other shoe to drop. These sunny mornings with their blue skies can't last forever.